


Always will be my son

by NightOfTheLand



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightOfTheLand/pseuds/NightOfTheLand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS!!! Frigga has a moment with her son, Loki, who in turn feels guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always will be my son

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one got away from me. So sorry, that I am not sorry.

The prison’s transparent walls allowed him to be on display to all who happened past, and for a man who had always cherished his privacy, being on display to any and all was beginning to wear him down. Not that he would show this to anyone, not even Frigga who came to him at least once a week since his imprisonment. She would bring him books, the occasional meal and her company. The pair would spend their time talking of all manner of things, Frigga in her soft way of making her youngest son feel comfortable. She knew she was one of the few whom her wayward son trusted, and yet she also knew that he hid things from her. He had spent the whole of yesterday denying her as him mother, and while she had to admit that it hurt, she knew he was just protecting himself.  
“Loki, my son..” she started as she walked up to the prison cell, looking for her son. He was nowhere to be seen. If not for the fact she knew there was no way for him to break out she would have thought that he had managed the impossible feat. Instead she waved a hand and the wall before her dissolved and she stepped in, the wall reappearing behind her as soon as she was clear.  
“Loki.” She called softly, before she saw him. A soft smile graced her lips at the sight of her son. And yes, even though he was not of her body he was still as much her son as Thor was.  
The God of Mischief was laid out on the chaise on his right side, his eyes closed in peaceful repose. Long hair had fallen over one side of his face and he had removed his top jerkin in favor for his soft linen tunic beneath. He had stretched out his long legs so they dangled over the end of the chaise. His left arm was draped over the edge, finger brushing the spine of a book that he had obviously been reading before he fell asleep. His other hand rest comfortably across his stomach. Black locks where in a state of disarray, and his face was turned out towards to room. Blue eyes were closed to the world and his lips were softly open in his sleep. His face was lax and all coldness and malice was gone from his features.  
To Frigga he looked like he had once looked before the lies of his life had twisted him into what he was today. She still remembered when Odin had brought him home. 

***

The night was overcast and Odin rode to the palace across the Bifrost with all haste, his small bundle clutched tightly against his chest. The bundle lay still and in peaceful sleep. Skin that had once been blue, but had since turned a pale pink was slightly flushed from the ride. A tiny fist was jammed in the babe’s mouth and he slept as though he not a care in the world.  
The Allfather dismounted as he came to a rearing halt before the palace. His queen descended the stairs concern in her beautiful eyes and she held her arms out for the small bundle. Odin handed it over to his wife with great care, watching as she smiled down at the sleeping babe. Her features softened with affection and he knew that she would be making a case to keep him as their own.  
Frigga lifted her eyes to question Odin, where had the babe come from.  
“Laufey’s son.” Odin told her, his voice low and rough with over use.  
The babe whined in his sleep and squirmed in Frigga’s hold. She cooed at him gently and the babe opened bright blue eyes and smiled up his holder. She reached out a hand to pull the swaddling down so she could see more of his features, and she tapped his nose gently with a finger. The babe broke into laughter that melted her heart.  
The Allfather gave his wife an indulging smile, and came to stand beside her, gazing down at the foundling babe. “He will be a good brother to Thor and a good son.” Frigga told him softly, giving him a look at spoke of many emotions.  
Frigga spoke again, softly, this time to the babe, “You will have a home here, my son, you will be safe and loved here, my precious Loki.” She looked at her husband, “Not Laufey’s son,” she looked down loving at the babe who was happily chewing on her hair, “Odin’s son.” 

***

He had been precious as a child, so full of wonder and questioning everything. His intelligence had far surpassed his brother’s and his thirst for knowledge had surpassed even the best tutors. He had grown bored with the scholars who were to teach him and his brother. Unlike Thor who was happy riding or training or fighting, Loki had only been happy learning, but mostly learning the magick of his mother.  
Frigga knelt by her son’s side and brushed a strand of dark hair from Loki’s sleeping face and she smiled her eyes soft as she watched her baby boy sleep. She knew that he was no longer the babe she had held in her arms that night Odin had brought him to her, but he was still her child, even if he denied it. With a soft wave of her hand she conjured a blanket to drape over his reposed form.  
At the feeling of thick heavy fabric draping over him, Loki shifted in his sleep, turning his head away from Frigga. He moved so he was flat on his back, or as flat on his back as lying on the chaise would let him be. He mumbled something half asleep before he stilled again.  
Frigga smiled at him, forgetting for a moment that she was in the prison watching her son sleep in a cell, that he had denied her just yesterday, and that he was now her biological son’s sworn enemy. For a moment she was watching the carefree Loki of the past and she felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. Swallowing hard she brushed her hand over his hair again, before leaning down to kiss his brow gently.  
Turning away she used a slightly trembling hand to smooth down the front of her dress as she made to leave.  
“Mom?” the gentleness of the tone, voice rough with sleep stopped her in her tracks. How long had it been since she had heard that word in that tone come from that voice?  
She turned back, a sad smile upon her lips. His eyes were half lidded and she could tell he was still half asleep and as such was probably not aware he had just called out for her. She returned to his side, knelling down next to him, and stroked his hair again, as he closed his eyes moving closer to her.  
“I’m sorry, mom.” He whimpered to her, shivering under the blanket, words slurred with sleep. She felt hope swell in her heart at his words. Could her son be slowing returning to her? She continued to stroke his hair, as she used her free hand to pull the blanket up further over him.  
“I love you, Loki, my son.” She whispered, to him, kissing his brow again.  
He shifted in his sleep again, sleepily murmuring his agreement, before he drifted off again. She stayed for a few moments longer, watching her son’s face relax again in sleep and listening as his breaths deepened and evened, telling her that he had fallen back into a deep sleep. She brushed her hand through his hair one more time, before tucking the blanket around him like she had done as a child.  
“Never forget, Loki, that you are my son, and that I love you. No matter what, you will always be my son.” She whispered against his skin as she kissed him again.  
This time as she left she was not called back, and she left as quietly as she came. 

***

Several days later, Loki sat in his jail, a book resting against his propped up legs, when the guard came to tell him of Frigga’s death. He had blinked slowly and nodded at the guard to dismiss him. With careful and deliberate motions he closed the book he had been pretending to read. He set it aside with great care, using all his self-control to keep himself in check. Slowly he stood, and paced to the middle of the room, clenched his fists to his side and lost his carefully constructed iron will.  
The chair he had just vacated, the small table and a foot stool when flying into the walls of his prison from the force of his rage. He clenched his fists so tight that he could feel his short nails digging into his palms, blood trickling between his fingers. Summoning all the magick within himself, he cast a glamour around the prison.  
Feeling the rage boiling over in him he went to chaise and with a roar that would have made his brother envious he over turned it, letting it smash into the wall. His anger and grief and pain and guilt and betrayal all mixed together to form a dangerous combination. Within an hour all piece of furniture had been smashed to splinters, he had rent and torn at his clothing so they how hung off his slender body loosely.  
He panted for breath as he leaned against the back wall, tears fighting to fall, and as he pressed his back to the wall sliding down to sit, drawing his knees up to his chest he let them. Pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes he let out a shallow sob, as his body shook with the effort he had just exerted.  
The only woman- nay the only person- who had stayed by him even in his betrayal, he had denied just days before. He had been hateful and angry with her and now she was dead. His mother, the woman who had cared for him when he had been ill, who had taught him magick and who had been his best friend for as long as he could remember, was dead. Another sob wracked his body and he lifted his head to survey the room.  
He gave a dark laugh, before folding his arms over his drawn up knees, resting his head against them. He remembered vaguely his mother coming to him at some point when he had last slept, but he didn't know if it had been real or if he had dreamt it. He hoped with all of what was left of his soul- if he still even had one, he didn't know- that it had been real, that his mother had forgiven him of his actions.  
“Oh, mother.” He whispered to the empty room. 

***

The look in his brother’s eyes cowed him slightly as the larger man held him tightly, calling him a fool. The crown prince’s eyes were dark with pain, and Loki couldn't help but agree that he was indeed a fool.  
“I’m a fool, I am a fool.” He gasped, his hand reaching up to grasped the front of his brother’s breast plate, body spamming at the pain of his wounds.  
“I will tell father you have done here today.” Thor told him, gravely as if the knowledge that their father would know he died to save Thor would comfort him.  
Loki forced his mouth to form the words, “I didn’t do it for him.” He shuddered against his brother’s hold, thinking back to the fight on the boat, his brother’s declaration that mother would not want them to fight. It was true, but at the same time it had come to be expected.  
He had only saved his brother because he knew that is what mother would have wanted. He gave his brother a small smile, before he shuddered again and then went limp in his arms, thinking, ‘I did it for her.’

**Author's Note:**

> So, in my mind the reason Loki is comfortable enough to remain asleep even when Frigga comes in, is because he trusts her, she is one of the only people he trusts. She is his mother no matter what and he loves her, and thus will not jerk awake at her entrance, even though I imagine he would if anyone else had even approached the cell.


End file.
